


the dark side of pride

by houseofbees



Category: Spider-Man (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, One Shot, someone hug otto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofbees/pseuds/houseofbees
Summary: Prompt: “Who cares about what they think?”OR:Otto makes a big mistake.
Relationships: Anna Maria Marconi/Otto Octavius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	the dark side of pride

Otto considered himself very confident in himself, thank you very much.

Some may disagree; say he's too introverted (as if that had anything to do with it) or too "serious."

But Otto held in his heart a deep disregard for what other people thought.

The work he did was revolutionary. On the levels of Einstein and Steven Hawking. Every second he spent in his lab, creating and inventing and discovering, would surely be critical to future history. Some few decades later, kids would study him for their ninth-grade science assignments.

He was Otto Octavius. Not just a man of science, but _world-shatteringly_ brilliant.

And someone as brilliant as him did not lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to reign in his unsteady breath.

It'd all started earlier that day. Parker had came to him in an effort to track down a supervillain with some boring, forgettable name. Another droplet in the flood. Still, Parker seemed rather distressed about it, and Otto had agreed to help.

_Peter frowned at Otto's writings on the chalkboard, tapping his fingers along his arm. A certain awkwardness always seemed to linger around him, but always dissipate once he set his eyes on an equation or an experiment. Fascinatingly enough, Otto seemed to be the only one to notice. Though, with the way that Osborn kid was constantly ogling him, it would be impossible for even a simpleton like him to miss. Parker himself, himself, though, seemed totally unaware—though Otto had to admit Parker was definitely more advanced than most of the students at Horizon._

_However…_

_"Otto," Parker began, shifting his weight. "Something about this formula seems... wrong."_

_Otto slotted a panel into place on Parker's webshooters, deadpanning, "Really?"_

_Parker grabbed the chalk and pressed it to his lips, furrowing his brows. He then underlined a specific part of the equation; a quadratic formula Otto had sketched out, as an outline for the pendulum system Parker used in his web-slinging. Meant to find the most effective way of traveling, with minimal muscle stress and a maximized view of the environment._

_"Yeah, it_ — _"Parker wrote out an obscenely wrong 'correction' next to it_ — _"just seems off."_

_Otto internally groaned, hands itching to snatch the chalk out of Parker's hands and stop acting like he knew more than Otto. Parker was a high school—well, college—student, and he had no business correcting Otto as if elementary algebra were something it were even possible for him to fail at._

_"Parker, I have graphed and factored more formulas like that than you could ever count. The likelihood of me making a mistake would be about the likelihood of you forgetting how to breathe."_

_And Parker had gone silent. It was almost eerie, how his quips and jokes simply dissipated. The boy usually never got so quiet, even if his mouth were literally glued shut._

_Otto gave a small hum before turning back to his own work. In any case, from what Otto had seen, Parker always recovered quickly._

Otto gritted his teeth. How could he have been so foolish?

_Later that day, Parker had set out to find the crook he'd set his sights on. Otto, of course, played "guy in the chair," as Parker put it. Watching the scene play out through Octobots and Parker's own eyes. Otto yawned, watching as Parker swung from building to building._

_"Have you found anything suspicious?"_

_Parker sighed, slamming down onto the edge of a building. "I know as much as you, Otto. God, why is this dude so fucking hard to track?"_

_"Language," Otto mumbled._

_"It's not that big of a— nevermind." Parker sling-shot himself off the building. "_ You _seen anything yet?"_

 _Otto glanced at the multiple screens surrounding him. Each one showed a plain scene; bustling streets full of average civillians, empty warehouses and museums, and a feed of the docks. Nothing, absolutely_ nothing _out of the blue._

_"Obviously not." Otto rested his head in his palm. "Are you sure this... ah, what did you call it? 'Green Goblin' actually exists?"_

_"I'm sure!" Parker snapped. Otto blinked. "Ah. I— Sorry, Otto, it's just been rough."_

_Parker proceeded to go on a rant about how when he brought up the issue with Osborn, he had aggressively defended himself. Saying the Green Goblin had absolutely no relation to the Hobgoblin. Understandably, Parker had a hard time believing him. The Osborn lineage had caused more than their fair share of trouble, and it would be of no surprise if Harold had inherited Norman's bad genes._

_"I am sorry to hear that," Otto said blankly as he sipped his tea. Parker sighed, grabbing onto a lamppost._

_"I am, too. Hey, Otto—"_

BOOM!

_The sound blew out Otto's speakers and he jumped, spilling hot tea all over himself. Peter's voice crackled in and out through the remaining earpiece, and the screens showed nothing but a pure white._

_"—tt! I—" A high-pitched, screeching laugh sounded in the background. "Help—!"_

_Otto bit his lip as he leaned forward, setting to work on getting the screens up again._

_"Parker?" No response. "Peter! Are you there? Can you hear me?"_

_"H—! O—! No, no, get back—!"_

_"_ Parker. _"_

_Otto froze as one of the screens finally came back online. Peter was stuck in a wad of thick, green goo, as a slender figure circled him on a glider. Peter gasped for air, struggling to get out. Immediately, Otto's hands shot out and an Octobot came online. He punched in Peter's coordinates, shoulders tensing._

_"Peter, I need you to get out of there_ immediately _."_

_"—o you think I'm— ying—o do?"_

_Otto flinched as another explosion sounded and Peter finally ripped free of the goo. He barely—_ barely— _dodged a pumpkin bomb as the slender figure laugh. Its ugly green face finally came into view and Otto stiffened._

_"The Green—?"_

_"Yes!" Peter hissed. "The— goblin!"_

_"Get out, Peter!" Otto set a waypoint towards an opening. "Over here."_

_Peter immediately webbed himself forward, launching himself straight into the opening._

_"Good. Now, remember that formula on the chalkboard?"_

_"Ye—" A loud rumbling drowned out his words. Otto grimaced; the building must've been coming down._

_"Use it. Use it now."_

_Peter didn't hesitate. He latched onto two poled. Flung himself forward with such force that he—_

_Otto's jaw dropped as an ear-splitting cackle filled his earpiece. The screen went static and a loud, thundering boom sounded. Peter's screams, then the sound of falling rocks._

_The screen came back online._

_All it showed was a webbed, red and bloodied glove sticking out among fallen rubble._

_The Green Goblin disappeared afterwards. No trace, no remorse. Leaving a dying teenager in the middle of a collapsed building. Otto immediately called for an ambulance, unable to take his eyes off the scene in front of him._

_Then, through the static, he heard breathing. Shallow, but consistent and prevalent. Otto breathed a sigh of relief._

_"Peter?" he asked meekly. Peter took a shaky breath, hand twitching._

_"Otto...?"_

_"You're— I called an ambulance."_

_"Oh." Peter clawed himself out, suit tattered and stained with blood. "I'm— I'm fine," he wheezed. "We can't get an ambulance."_

_Dear god. This kid..._

_"I'm paying for it. You don't have to worry about money."_

_"You don't have any money, Otto," Peter mumbled._

_"_ I'm paying for it. _"_

_Peter gave a weak shrug._

_"Fine."_

_A pause._

_"What... happened?" Peter asked._

_Otto clenched his fists._

_"You... didn't—" No, god, he couldn't place the blame on him. That would be far too cruel. "No, no._ _I failed."_

_The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Otto took a deep breath._

_"I calculated the angle wrong. You were—Peter, you were correct." Otto slouched. "I was wrong."_

After that, Peter had been taken to a hospital—Otto showing up in person to make sure nobody took off his mask—and assessed to be very, very lucking in surviving. Otto returned home, heart heavy with guilt.

Peter had three broken ribs, a broken arm, and bruises all along his body. And he'd been impaled with a pole, just to the right of his heart. Just the slightest change in direction and he would be dead. Forever.

And just like that, memories of their mind swap—of Ben, of May, memories he didn't even _make_ yet still had him curled tightly around his pillow—played through his mind in an endless sequence. He still remembered the taste of May's wheatcakes—even though he hated the sugar and sweetness—and Ben's comforting presence. God, even the memories he—Peter had made with Osb—no, Harry. And if Peter had died, Otto would be the only carrier of those memories.

The only carrier of Peter Parker's essence.

And he had almost destroyed all of it.

Humans were incredibly fragile creatures. Yet, they held so much life. So much knowledge. Happiness and joy and sadness and complexity. The mere idea of such a wealth of knowledge being able to crumble so quickly was _absurd,_ like burning libraries or museums.

Yet, he'd attempted it. He'd tried to erase a human being.

And now, Otto regretted that more than anything else.

Otto's lip trembled as he pressed a hand to his wet face. His stomach curled and his throat tightened. God, this wouldn't do at all. Sulking in his own misery, wishing for a slumber that would never come.

He fumbled blindly for his phone. Dialed Anna Maria's number.

The minutes following blurred together. The anticipation for waiting for Anna Maria to pick up, though, distinctly stuck out in his mind, as he desperately tried to reign himself in. He didn't get too far before the ringing turned into ambient static.

"Otto?" Anna Maria's tired voice came through the receiver.

"Anna Maria, I—" Otto choked, his own voice sounding terribly pathetic and horribly shameful. "It's nice to see you."

"Oh, it's nice to see you too. Is this abut Peter?" she asked with a tinge of sadness.

"I..." Otto fell slack, face blank. "Yes.

"I... made a miscalculation. And he trusted me. And now..."

"Otto, are you crying?" Anna Maria asked. Otto wiped his face.

"No?"

"I'm coming over."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. I want to be there for you."

Despite himself, Otto's heart couldn't help but flutter.

"Please," Otto whispered.

A silence came over them that seemed to drag on forever. Otto closed his eyes, focusing on his slowly calming breaths to ease his anxiety.

"Otto?"

"Yes, Anna Maria?"

"You don't... you aren't thinking Peter blames you for this, do you?"

"What?"

"I mean— you have a tendency to... I dunno, internalize whatever people say about you?" Anna Maria coughed. "Or just, whatever you think they say about you."

Otto blinked.

"And I'm not trying to armchair diagnose you here—trust me, I've dealt with enough of that myself—but Otto, you're a good person."

"I know," Otto said maybe a bit too harshly. He softened, near whispering into the receiver, "I know I am."

A deep ache settled in his chest. He shuffled, saying, "But today taught me that maybe other people may have a point. If they think I'm bad—"

"Who cares about what they think, Otto?"

"I care—"

"Because you have, I dunno, deep-rooted emotional problems. But, Otto, don't you think what _I_ think of you is much more important than what total strangers think?"

Otto paused.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose so."

"Then trust me when I say you're a good person."

Otto looked down.

"Why?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Why?" Anna Maria chuckled. "Well... you never give up.

"Even though you've done bad shit in your life, even though you've gone through stuff I couldn't even imagine going through, you're still here. Still alive, worrying about a situation you could never have predicted. You're worried about being a bad person. But bad people don't worry about whether or not they're good, Otto. You took a good, hard look at yourself and you said _I am going to be better._ And you are! You're one of the best people I've ever met."

Otto choked back a fresh wave of tears.

"Anna Maria, I..." A beat passed. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," Anna Maria said so sweetly Otto thought he might pass out. "Please, don't stress yourself out over mistakes like this. I mean— yeah, it's bad, it's a bad situation, I'm not denying that, but mistakes are bound to happen, Otto. And it's okay. You can't improve on perfection."

A smile—the first one he'd had in years—broke out on his face.

"Thank you."

"No problem, Otto. Oh, by the way, I'm here."

The moment Anna Maria stepped through the door, Otto had his arms wrapped tightly around her. She gratefully returned the hug, smiling into his chest.

Yes, Otto was very confident in himself. He was very confident that he was just about the luckiest man to be alive, with Anna Maria in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this seems ooc i dont have a lot of practice writing characters like otto lol  
> also excuse my bullshit abt quadratic formulas i'm 14 years old and hate algebra and physics


End file.
